


jubilant

by hydrospanners



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Gen, most of the gang is here, some people just don't party in a way that catches ria's attention, sorry vivienne and solas and cole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrospanners/pseuds/hydrospanners
Summary: Haven celebrates the sealing of the Breach. Niria Adaar sees what happiness looks like on the people around her.





	jubilant

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Written for Fictober 2017.

They hear the celebration before they see it. Music and laughter and the too-loud voices of the already drunk mingle together and bounce off the sides of the mountains, echoing up and out of the valley. Fires and torches and hooded lanterns cast Haven in a cheery orange-red glow that’s a real improvement on the previous sickly green.

The green is still there, of course. Solas says it’s a scar that will likely never fully heal. But it’s dimmer now, just a sliver of gruesome in an otherwise lovely sky.

“I’m thinking you should carry me in on your shoulders,” Niria says.

Cassandra, predictably, scoffs. Varric glances around at their group—Cassandra and Leliana and Solas and himself—and laughs. “That’d be a sight.”

“All it takes is a little teamwork. I’m not  _that_ heavy.”

“You  _are_ that lazy,” Cassandra says.

“Sorry, did you say amazing? I’m still having trouble hearing after that pride demon you were supposed to wrangle ground me into the dirt.”

“ _Ugh_.”

Niria doesn’t ride into Haven on anyone’s shoulders, but once she’s there, she’s lifted off her feet almost immediately. And with the crowd around them cheering and singing and weeping with joy, she almost doesn’t even care that it’s The Iron Bull raising her up.

Ale is passed to her from every direction and just this once, she indulges herself. She doesn’t pay much attention to where it comes from or what it smells like or how much she drinks at once. She chugs one mug and reaches immediately for another. She sings along with every song she hears and slaps every shoulder she can reach from her elevated position. Even Bull’s shoulder.

Eventually she’s passed from the hulking Ben-Hassrath to a group of excitable young soldiers, from them to a group of Templars, and from there she starts losing track. Everyone wants a piece of her tonight, and not in the pay-me-what-you-owe-me-or-I’ll-kill-you way she’s used to.

It isn’t until the dancing starts that her feet hit the ground. It’s a very Ferelden sort of dancing, a complex system of lines and people taking turns on cues Niria’s a little too drunk to understand. But no one complains when the Herald of Andraste moves down the line at the wrong time. No one asks her to limit the swaying of her hips. (Rivaini dancing is very different from this.)

It’s a party like no other she’s ever seen. Even Cassandra and Cullen are smiling, chatting amiably by the Chantry, where things aren't quite so raucous. Varric is in top form, weaving a greatly exaggerated and a little bit drunken tale of their victory at the Breach while simultaneously robbing his audience blind at cards.

Sera is mostly flashes of red and bursts of laughter in the crowd, but she appears right next to Ria when the dancing starts. She leads them down the line a few times, getting more handsy than is really necessary when it comes time for the turning, and Ria is just drunk enough to think she might get handsy too, once the dancing is done.

Bull and the Chargers lead their own ring of merriment with free-flowing booze and periodic cracks and bursts of flame that, for once, do not seem to be concerning anyone. Josephine and Blackwall are standing right next to them, but are too busy smiling at one another to even notice.

Even Leliana cuts loose a little. She lets her hood down and takes her gloves off, seeming almost ordinary as she harmonizes with Maryden, singing some bawdy Orlesian tune that’s got a group of Templars nearly rolling on the ground.

For a few short hours, all the world is bright and wonderful and warm, and Niria Adaar finds herself unreservedly happy. Unreservedly drunk, but unreservedly happy. The happiest she can remember being since Ranna.

But good things never last, do they?


End file.
